


Colours of the Rainbow

by Aroomie



Series: Witcher Fic's [20]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Blow Jobs, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Enchanted Makeup, End Game Geraskier, Gen, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Good Parent Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Good Parent Jaskier | Dandelion, Good Parent Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, I hate tagging, Insecure Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, It doesn't wash off people, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg Friendship, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Maybe... If I can figure it out, Mutual Pining, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Not without a special potion, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Pining, Public Blow Jobs, Sexual Content, Spoilers, Tags Are Hard, Tags Contain Spoilers, Tags May Change, Touch-Starved Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Winter At Kaer Morhen, Yennefer and Jaskier have a bet going, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg Ships It, everyone ships it, witcher sexual Jaskier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:41:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29220396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aroomie/pseuds/Aroomie
Summary: Life went back to normal once the dust had settled...Ciri was safe with the Witcher's, Yennefer had a child, Geralt was a great father, and Jaskier followed after his White Wolf like a lovesick puppy... Everything was perfect, well, almost. There was the small issue of Geralt keeping his feelings bottled up and not admitting how he felt about his bard.Jaskier is a patient man, he can wait.... but no one said he couldn't have fun while he did it.~~~~~~~Alternately:Jaskier makes a bet with Yennefer, the winner would collect their bounty at Kaer Morhen when they all gathered for winter.
Relationships: Aiden/Jaskier | Dandelion, Coën/Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert, Jaskier | Dandelion/Letho z Gulety | Letho of Gulet, Jaskier | Dandelion/Original Male Character(s), Jaskier | Dandelion/Vesemir, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Series: Witcher Fic's [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1852585
Comments: 42
Kudos: 89





	1. All the Colours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TricksyPixie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TricksyPixie/gifts).



> I BLAME YOU!! (I do love you though)
> 
> A nice short intro.... More chapters to come!! <3

"Are you really sure you want to do this?" Yennefer asked, her stupid perfect lips pulled into a smirk, her slender fingers coyly tracing across a small box on the table between them. Jaskier rolled his eyes and reached out for the box. Yennefer pushed it to meet his palm, then proceeded to open the lid and stare down at the contents. 

"It was my idea," Jaskier snapped and the sorceress just nodded, a smile on her lips.

"What ever would Geralt say," Yennefer wondered out loud and Jaskier rolled his eyes once again. 

"It will stay?" he glanced up at the sorceress who nodded, giving an eye roll of her own, playing with a glass on the table. 

"The colours have been enchanted, only able to be removed with this," Yennefer pulled out a small vial of liquid, sliding it over to Jaskier. "It will smear, spread, but never disappear until washed with this. I made sure you had enough to clean yourself and any smears you make when applying." Jaskier smiled as he took the vial from Yennefer, looking it over and giving the glass bottle a shake before tucking it away in a hidden pocket in his doublet. His eyes trailed back to the small box, staring down at the small circles of colour neatly prepared, brow lifted.

“Eleven?” He glances at Yennefer, the woman smiling wide as she held up her own set.

“Eleven,” she echoed, “this you can handle it, fairy boy?” She smiled wide, watching as Jaskier scoffed and returned his own feral smirk. 

“I’m sorry to say you’ve made too little, what if I need a different one?” Jaskier asked slyly, making Yennefer roll her eyes again. 

“You won’t need another colour, bard. If you do, and I do stress the if, you can just start at the beginning,” she explained and Jaskier nodded slowly, tracing his fingers around the casing of the makeup. His gaze snapped back to Yennefer, a large cocky smile spreading across his lips as he tucked the box away into his bag.

“I’ll see you this winter, Yennefer,” Jaskier rose to his feet, Yennefer doing the same, and reached across the table to her. They shook hands as if old friends, the sorceress grinning like the cat who caught the canary.

“Until then, Jaskier,” Yennefer released his hand and left the tavern, Jaskier’s gaze following after her, and a large smile crossed his face when Geralt came walking in not that long after.

“Geralt! Good hunt?” Jaskier asked, crossing the floor to help the Witcher if he so needed.

“Yennefer was here?” Geralt asked, arching a brow as he looked over his shoulder to the door.

“Hmm? Oh, yes! She was. Just here to drop off a trinket I requested, no need to worry yourself, darling Witcher,” Jaskier played up his words, talking over Geralt’s confused expression until it settled into something more fond. 

“There is a bardic competition coming up soon, near Oxenfurt!” Jaskier announced after an hour, watching as Geralt licked his lips nervously. 

“Jaskier… We can’t head that way yet, a route was planned,” Geralt frowned and watched as Jaskier’s smile remained on his face.

“Oh, I know dearest, but you will be passing there within the month and you can swoop me off my feet and carry me off to Kaer Morhen for the winter!” Jaskier said cheerfully, waving down the barmaid for another round of drinks. Geralt didn’t like it, but he nodded none the less with a heavy sigh. 

“Alright. At least promise to use the box Yen gave you this time?” Geralt asked and Jaskier just smiled even more as he looked at Geralt. 

“Worried about me, Witcher?” Jaskier asked teasingly. He knew Geralt had trouble working through his emotions, he hoped soon that Geralt would realize his feelings, but there was nothing wrong with a little fun in the meantime. He watched as Geralt had to bite the inside of his cheek, his jaw flexing and brow furrowing before he finally nodded slowly.

“Yes,” was all that came out of Geralt’s mouth and Jaskier smiled sweetly.

“I promise. I will use the trinket Yennefer gave me,” Jaskier said, exaggerating Yennefer’s name just for fun, and the smile Geralt gave him in return made Jaskier’s heart melt.

Their evening passed by in the same routine as it always had, Jaskier took Geralt to their room and gave the Witcher a bath. Helped the man take inventory of his potions and herbs, even offered to help prepare some of the more gross materials for his potions, to which Geralt looked at the bard like he had grown a second head. “I’m going to be leaving you! The least I can do is help you tonight!” was Jaskier’s defence. It worked, and Geralt supervised Jaskier as the bard helped him with the gooey materials. 

There was only one bed in the room, there is always ever only one bed, and Geralt held onto Jaskier when the Witcher believed the bard to be asleep, pressing his face to the base of his neck and breathing in the scent that was so undeniably Jaskier, getting his fill of it, knowing the weeks ahead were going to be long without his bard.


	2. White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Does Coën look good in white? 
> 
> Why yes, yes he does.

Jaskier spent the morning lazing across the bed while Geralt got ready, watching as the Witcher pulled on his armour, admiring the way Geralt’s muscles moved. He watched wistfully until the very last possible moment. Getting ready himself and walked with the Witcher to the stables to say his farewell to Roach, giving the faithful mare his last sugar cube and petting along her snout. 

“You’ll call if you are in trouble?” Geralt asked for the fifth time as they walked to the edge of town. Jaskier smiled, rolling his eyes fondly. 

“Yes, Geralt, I will call if I am in dire need of my dearest Witcher to come and rescue me,” Jaskier said with exaggerated movements and over-emotional tones to his voice, making Geralt scoff with a small upturn of his lips. When they reached the fork in the road, the small smile on Geralt’s face vanished and Jaskier gave him a small smile, patting the Witcher’s thigh. 

“I’ll see you in Oxenfurt, Geralt!” Jaskier said cheerfully, getting a small grunt in response. Jaskier sighed and shook his head slowly, taking a step away from Geralt but the Witcher quickly reached out and grabbed hold of Jaskier’s wrist, the bard spinning about to look at him. 

“I… you... “ Geralt licked his lips, looking at the ground, “stay safe, Jaskier.”

Jaskier smiled widely, taking Geralt’s hand in his and placed a kiss on the Witcher’s palm, making Geralt’s cheeks burn. Jaskier smiled wide, spinning on his heel and waving over his shoulder to Geralt, starting to hum loudly so that the Witcher could hear him as he walked down the road.

~~~~~

Jaskier was able to travel faster without the Witcher with him, it was adorable how Geralt was always considerate and kept a human’s pace so that Jaskier would be able to keep up. Sweet Witcher.

Jaskier smiled, a skip in his step, as he entered the tavern and began bargaining his services for a place to stay. He had won over a free meal and a room if Jaskier gave a portion of the coin he made that evening, it was an easy deal, one he has made plenty of times while travelling with Geralt. 

While Jaskier got ready for his evening, it was to his delight when word of a Witcher being in town reached his ears and a large smile stretched his lips. Jaskier pulled out a silk white doublet, decorated with silver embroidery and gold buttons, from his pack and dressed quickly before pulling out the small box he got from Yennefer and peeked at the selection of paints before pulling out a small brush and dipped it into the circle of white. 

He took his time to paint his lips, making sure to put on a second layer and making sure the colour popped. Once he was done and settled, he took up his lute and sashayed his way down into the tavern, all the partons turning to look at him as he bounced into the room even more enthusiastically than he has in the past, both women and men looking at him and only needing half a second before their gazes filled with hunger as they looked him head to toe. 

Jaskier started his set as soon as he walked far enough into the room, swaying his hips playfully, dodging the touches that reached for him. While he was out to have fun, he still only had eyes for one person, always would. 

Jaskier was halfway through his set when the door of the tavern opened so hard it slammed against the wall, drawing everyone’s attention and Jaskier just smiled, not missing a note, watching as the large baldheaded Witcher walked across the room to the counter. Jaskier let the song trail off, playing cords on his lute to a natural fade, the Witcher’s eyes resting on him as he walked across the room. 

The bard smiled and bounced on his toes, skipping across the room and leaning against the bar as he motioned for a drink. Glancing towards the Witcher as the large man spoke to the owner.

“I already told you, we have no more rooms,” the owner pinched his brow.

“I don’t believe you. There is always a room, just that a Witcher is not welcome. I already told you I will pay double!” The Witcher growled back, glaring at the owner. Jaskier’s gaze shifted towards the barmaid in front of him, watching as she shifted on her feet, a look of worry on her face. 

“My dear lady,” Jaskier started, smiling as the barmaid looked at him, “would you be so kind as to get the Witcher a drink, on me,” he smiled as the girl nodded, relieved to have something to do. He watched as she grabbed a mug and poured out a large amount, aiming for the least amount of foam in the mug, politely interrupting the argument and placing the mug before the Witcher. 

“What is this?” He growled, looking to the woman and she smiled nervously while motioning down the bar. 

“The bard, Sir. He requested I bring you a drink,” she said before bustling off. The Witcher stared at Jaskier for a long time, giving the owner a chance to get away. 

“You buy a drink for a Witcher,” The Witcher moved down the bar, pushing the mug with him, “why?” 

“You bleed like any other man, do you not? The only thing that separates you from them is the mutations. Even then, that just makes you better, being able to protect those who truly need it from what they can not,” Jaskier smiled, watching as the caution and weariness slowly left the Witcher’s eyes. 

“That so?” The Witcher purred, a small smile tugging his lips and Jaskier admired the way his beard shifted with the movement. 

“It is. Quiet a noble profession, if I do say so myself,” Jaskier said, lifting his own mug and downing the rest of his drink, turn about, and head into the room again to continue his set. 

The entire evening he could feel the eyes of the Witcher on him, casting the occasional look his way and gave his best flirtatious smile and even went as far as winking at the large man, loving the way he choked on his drink every time. His set lasted another two hours, the Witcher’s eyes remaining on him the entire time, the need for a room completely forgotten, a thing easily fixed by Jaskier. 

The bard didn’t need his room, not really, even this late into the night, he always found a safe place to stay and this evening he would be more than happy to give up his room for this Witcher. For the right reason, of course. 

Once Jaskier finished his last song, finished his last ale for the evening, and was headed up the stairs when something warm and solid wrapped around his wrist. Jaskier smiled and looked over his shoulder at the Witcher, playfully tilting his head. 

“Your set… it was good,” The Witcher said and Jaskier smiled even more. 

“Thank you, dear Witcher,” Jaskier said cheerfully, watching as the Witcher licked his lips, looking at everything but the bard himself. How cute. Jaskier grabbed hold of the Witcher’s wrist and pulled, smiling more to himself when the Witcher came along easily. 

“What are you doing?” The Witcher asked dumbly.

“I am pulling you to a room. My room. Which could also be your room if you actually tell me what is going on in that darling mind of yours,” Jaskier said as he walked down the hall, quickly opening the door to his room and pushed the Witcher inside before shutting the door behind them. 

“I… that is… it’s just....” The Witcher fumbled over his words, making Jaskier smile sweetly as he walked towards the Witcher. He placed his hands on the man’s chest and pushed back, pleased as the Witcher walked backwards until finally he hit the bed with the back of his knees and dropped down onto the mattress. 

“Just what?” Jaskier teased, reaching for the buckles on the Witcher’s armour and easily undoing them with practiced ease from his time with Geralt. 

“You’re… very pretty.” The Witcher blurted, making Jaskier laugh as he smiled wide, seeing the Witcher’s eyes stuck on his lips. 

“Tell you what, darling,” Jaskier purred, continuing to undo the Witchers armour until he could take the heavy plates off and drop them onto the floor. “Tell me exactly what you would like, and I may just give it to you.” 

The Witcher swallowed hard, licking his lips. Jaskier stared at him, smiling still as he watched the green-tinted bloodshot eyes dart about the room. 

“I… I want to sleep, honestly,” they both laughed, “but I also want to see what else you are able to do with that mouth of yours.” 

Jaskier smiled even wider at the Witcher’s words, leaning in and pressing his lips teasingly against the Witchers, his fingers skillfully trailing across his shirt and hooking into the hem of the Witcher’s pants.

“I just need one thing before I give you a full demonstration, darling,” Jaskier whispered against the Witcher’s lips, licking at them playfully.

“Anything.” 

“What’s your name?” Jaskier asked, reaching up with one hand so he could run his fingers through the wiry hair of the Witcher’s beard. 

“Coën,” the Witcher breathed, “my name is Coën.”

Jaskier made a pleased noise in the back of his throat, scratching his nails across Coën’s jaw and trailed them down his neck and slipped his fingers across the Witcher’s chest, sliding to his knees. Jaskier used his hands to push Coën’s knees apart and shimmied his way between the Witcher’s legs, grinning as he looked up at Coën’s face. The cat-like pupils dilating as Coën watched Jaskier use his teeth to unlace his trousers, pulling the material to the sides as he hooked his fingers into the trousers and pulled them down just enough so that he could easily guide Coën’s already half massed prick from the confinement. 

“I…” Jaskier looked up at Coën’s voice, smiling sweetly, “it’s… been a while. I don’t…” Coën trailed off and Jaskier shushed him. 

“Don’t worry about that, darling. I am doing this for your pleasure, not to judge on how long you can last,” Jaskier scolded Coën, gently petting his hands across the Witcher’s thighs. “Just relax.”

Coën closed his eyes, nodding as he swallowed hard again, and Jaskier smiled as he continued to pet Coën’s thighs, scratching his nails across the material of his trousers and listened to the way the Witcher’s breath hitched when he licked a long stripe along the length of Coën’s cock, loving the way the Witcher’s breath shuttered, his cock filling out even more. 

Jaskier hummed quietly to himself, pleased with all the reactions he was winning from the Witcher, even more so when Coën cried out in surprise as Jaskier swallowed down the entirety of his cock in one go, his lips circling tight around the base of his rapidly filling out prick, nose buried in the curls of his pubic hair. Coën forced himself to watch as Jaskier slid along his cock, completely filling out against the warmth of the bard’s tongue, the paint on his lips leaving a white ring that smeared as Jaskier moved his mouth along the length.

Coën couldn’t help it as his fingers slipped into Jaskier’s hair, forcing his grip to remain gentle. That is until the bard slips off his cock with a wet pop and says “go ahead, I can take it,” and any resolve Coën had a handle on snapped. 

His fingers tightened in the bard’s hair, holding tightly to the silky locks of his hair, and pulls his head forwards as he thrusts his hips up. Jaskier choked, only once, when the head of Coën’s cock hit the back of his throat. He relaxed his throat, letting the length slip in and out, sliding across his tongue and occasionally flicks it across the tip when Coën’s cock slides out far enough. 

Coën’s breath came out in heavy pants, moaning with every exhale, his hips moving faster and erratically. Every moan coming out higher-pitched, more desperate, and Jaskier tightened his throat just enough that Coën suddenly let out a whimpering moan, his grip tightening even more on Jaskier’s hair as he pulled the bard’s face flush with his hips, the head of his prick forcing its way into Jaskier’s throat. Coën’s cock thickened, pulsing hard once, twice, his release pouring down Jaskier’s throat.

The bard just hummed happily, swallowing down every last bit of Coën’s release, the contristing of his throat making Coën gasp and whimper as he quickly got overstimulated. Coën released his grip from Jaskier’s hair, letting the bard pull away and take a deep exaggerated breath, the Witcher smirking down at him, admiring the way Jaskier’s lip paint stained his length. 

Jaskier licked his lips as if he had just eaten the most delicious meal, leaning up from his knees and placing a sweet kiss against Coën’s lips, forcing the Witcher to lay on the bed. He smiled down at him as he pulled back, tsking the Witcher as he tried to sit back up, and moved about the room to organize his belongings, Coën’s eyes already slipping shut on their own accord.

Jaskier chuckled to himself, getting Coën tucked back into this trousers, a small smirk on his lips as he made sure to spread the white paint from his lips across Coën’s length just that little bit more, and settled the Witcher properly into the bed before standing up and collecting his things. He made sure to put the key on the nightstand, within easy view for when the Witcher woke, and requested the owner lock his room with the spare key when the bard had gotten to the ground floor. 

“Are you no longer staying, master bard?” The owner asked, brow lifted and lips pressed into a small frown. 

“No, no. I relinquish my room happily to the Witcher, he needs it far more than I,” Jaskier smiled as he threw the tavern’s share of the coin from his set onto the bar, smiling to himself as he poured out enough of the liquid from the vial onto a small cloth and wiped his lips off, leaving the tavern and setting off on the road in search of another place to spend the remainder of the night.


	3. Orange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lambert's favourite colour is Orange?
> 
> Who knew.

Now, Jaskier wouldn’t normally call himself a slut normally, nor would he use the terms whore, tramp, loose, or anything else one could think of in such a degrading term for one with a healthy sexual appetite. 

Normally.

Tonight, however, as Jaskier listened to the man panting above him, gloved fingers threaded in his hair and gripping tightly as he kept his jaw lax, hips thrusting slow and shallow. His orange painted lips stretched wide around the girth sliding in and out of his mouth… Jaskier was an absolute slut for this Witcher tonight.

~~

After leaving Coën, making sure the Witcher was set and even giving a small note to the tavern owner to give to the Witcher, Jaksier had travelled through the night. Strumming his lute and composing as he went along, uncaring of the world around him, well, most of the world. Just before he reached the next town over, the bard had run into another Witcher, the dark-haired wolf immediately recognizing the bard for who he was, “Geralt’s bard,” he said. 

Jaskier loved the zing of pleasure he always felt when someone called him that, for that is exactly what he was. He was Geralt’s. This other Witcher introduced himself as Lambert and immediately Jaskier adored the youngest of the wolf school, watching as the feral man grabbed the alderman of the town by the lapels of his shirt and began dragging the man about all because he was trying to short the Witcher fair pay for taking care of a monster problem they were having. 

“Sticking around, buttercup?” Lambert asks as he readied for the hunt and Jaskier smiled sweetly, watching as the Witcher readied his potions and checked his blades.

“I am. I believe I will get a room for this evening, care to share?” Jaskier asked, a hint of playfulness to his voice, one that made Lambert’s brow lift and turn to the bard with a predatory look. 

“Fewer expenses the better, though I’m surprised you want to, aren’t you and Geralt…” lambert trailed off, waving his hands about in a vulgar manner. 

“Hmm? Oh! No, no, not for a lack of trying I assure you,” Jaskier says, still smiling. 

“Huh, sucks to be him then,” Lambert grins, “we’ll share a room, buttercup.” 

“Wonderful! I shall make certain for there to be a tall drink in your hand the moment you return,” Jaskier smiled wider, if possible, as he wiggled his fingers at Lambert. 

“Seriously?” Lambert blinked owlishly at the bard.

“Oh, don’t forget to take an extra swallow, if you are anything like Geralt you never take enough supplies,” Jaskier said helpfully, already passing the vial over to Lambert.

“Fuck,” Lambert breathed, pocketing the potion. 

“Oh, shall I also call for a bath for when you return? You may use your Igni to warm the water,” Jaskier said with a smile, tilting his head at the gawked open mouth expression of the Witcher. “What?”

“How the fuck does Geralt let you out of his sight?” Lambert asked in awe, making Jaskier laugh quietly. 

“Guess we’ll never know. Now shoo, less you miss your window for the hunt,” Jaskier said and shooed the Witcher off. “Oh! Before I forget, what’s your favourite colour?” 

“Colour? I…” Lambert stared at Jaskier, his brow lifting, “orange, I guess? That’s a really random question, Buttercup,” Lambert chuckled as Jaskier smiled, waving his hand about. 

“Hush, it is a completely valid one, now off with you,” Jaskier pushed Lambert away, laughing as the Witcher gave a put upon sigh, smiling none the less as he went with the shove and took the road out of town to the woods.

It was around midday, Jaskier collected a key to a room, requested a bath be drawn for the Witcher when he returned along with a mug to be placed in the mans hand as soon as he walked into the building. Jaskier went to the room after everything was prepared, moving the smaller nightstands around so that there was space on the wall for Lambert to put his blades if he was anything like Geralt and his habits as a Witcher. The bard got ready for his evening, pulling out his paint and opening them, applying the orange colour then shrugged into a bright orange doublet that was trimmed with gold, snatching his lute and heading to the main floor so he could begin his set. 

It didn’t take Lambert long to return, Jaskier only halfway through the first half of his set when the Witcher returned. Jaskier smiled at the surprised look on Lambert’s face when a mug was thrust into his hand, the barmaid uncaring with the amount of blood on his gloves, his gaze snapping towards Jaskier and his brightly coloured self as the bard danced about on tables. 

The bard gave him a small nod towards the stairs, smirking when the barmaid directed Lambert towards the room Jaskier had rented, the Witcher stumbling along stunned for only a second until a look of utter gratitude washed over his face, tipping back the mug and taking large swallows as he went up the stairs. 

By the time Jaskier finished the first half of his set and sitting at the bar with his drink, Lambert came bounding down the steps, washed clean from any blood and looking utterly content as he stretched his arms over his head. Lambert’s gaze landed on the bard, a small smirk appearing on his face as he walked over to Jaskier, another mug of ale appearing before the Witcher. 

“Good hunt?” Jaskier asked, taking another drink.

“Boring hunt,” Lambert replied bitterly. Jaskier giggled into his drink, making Lambert stare at the bard from the corner of his eye. “Anything I can do to cheer you up?” 

Lambert’s brow lifted as he looked at Jaskier, licking his lips as he lowered his mug to the counter, eyes darting to Jaskier’s lips for barely a second and the bard’s lips lift into a smirk as he drops his own mug and grabs Lambert’s wrist, pulling the Witcher into the alley and behind a stack of barrels. 

“Greedy thing,” Lambert growls, leaning forward to take the bard’s lips with his but Jaskier lifts a hand and presses a finger to his lips with a smirk. 

“Ah, ah,” Jaskier presses his hips to Lambert’s, loving the groan that slips from the Witcher’s mouth. “I only have to long before I must finish my set, we do this my way.” 

Lambert grinned, licking Jaskier’s finger against his lips and watched as the bard dropped to his knees, quickly undoing the laces of the Witcher’s trousers, pulling the flaps open and pulling out Lambert’s rapidly fattening cock. 

Jaskier gave the length a few experimental strokes, smiling slyly up at Lambert as he Witcher’s head fell back against the wall, a pleased sigh leaving his lips the quickly turned into a surprised moan as Jaskier took his whole length into his mouth, all the way to the hilt, cornflower blue’s glittering up at Lambert’s now wide-eyed gaze with mirth as he curled his lips and left a bright orange ring around Lambert’s cock. 

~~

And here he was, staring up at Lambert through a half-lidded gaze as Lambert fucks shallowly into his mouth, trying to be careful to not go too deep so that the bard didn’t have to worry about singing the second half of his set. 

Small gasping leaving the Witcher, keeping the volume down on purpose so they wouldn’t get caught. The gentle thrusting slowly going deeper and deeper until Jaskier coiled his tongue just the right way and pressed his mouth further to the base of Lamberts cock, forcing the head down into his throat, relaxing the muscles to make sure it could go as deep as he could go… then swallowed. 

Lambert cried out in surprise, gripping Jaskier’s hair and holding the bard’s mouth flush to his hips as he spilled his release down his throat. The bard humming happily as he swallowed down every last drop of the thick load, flexing his muscles as he swallowed continuously until Lambert let out a low whimper with oversensitivity and Jaskier pulled off of him, licking his lips happily as he smirked up at the Witcher, crawling up his muscled thighs and pressing into his thick body. 

“Sadly, I must wash away your flavour with a drink, to soothe my throat,” Jaskier smirked with a small chuckle, pecking the air just in front of Lambert’s lips as he tucked Lambert back into his trousers, sliding himself off of the Witcher and headed back inside. 

It took Lambert a moment to regain his brain cells, shaking his head hard and pushed off the wall to head back inside, unable to take his eyes off of the bard for the rest of the evening.


	4. Purple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who says you can't wear makeup just to look pretty? 
> 
> You never know who you'll stumble upon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used a new OC for this chapter! I hope you like it!! 
> 
> Aleksei, Witcher school of the Owl <3
> 
> I made a little bit of a praise kink in this one.... blink and you'll miss it.

Jaskier left Lambert the next morning before the Witcher was even awake, taking a moment to admire the broad naked plains of his shoulders, blankets pooled around his waist low enough that Jaskier got an eye full of Lamberts gloriously shaped ass. Regardless of what Lambert thought would happen when sharing a room with Jaskier, the Witcher simply snuggled up to the bard and held onto him all night, the softer cuddly side of the prickly Witcher amusing Jaskier greatly, especially when he ran his fingers through Lambert's hair and received tired purring noises in response. 

Once again, Jaskier made sure Lambert was taken care of, ordering food for when the Witcher woke and paying for it as well as a little extra for one of the workers to fetch a couple of things from the market for the Witcher. He made sure to leave a note with the owner to give to Lambert as well before he headed on his way. 

Jaskier travelled for two days before bumping into another Witcher, or more accurately, the Witcher bumped into him. 

Jaskier had made camp for the night, gathered enough wood for a fire to burn all night long, cleared the rocks from where he lay his bedroll, he even had boar meat roasting over the fire -of the smaller size, don’t be ridiculous. He’s a bard, not a Witcher, how could he catch a full-grown one?-. Jaskier was enjoying his time under the moon, plucking at his lute and even dressed himself up in a lavender coloured doublet and painted his lips with the rich purple colour from the box. There was no harm in feeling pretty.

It was then, halfway through a note, that Jaskier's voice went from a perfectly held note to screeching like a banshee as a Leshen came barra long through the trees, charging towards Jaskier, and fell into the dirt not five feet from the bard. A bard who was now clutching tightly to his lute, legs tucked to his chest, and face frozen in over-exaggerated fear, the scream dying in his throat, his eyes darting from the dead creature towards the trees when the bushes began to move again.

Now, Jaskier expected another monster to come crawling out, some werewolf that went on a thrill ride, or perhaps just a moody fiend. What Jaskier wasn’t expecting, however, was the six-foot, shoulders as wide as he is tall, armour torn and exposing pale skin, holy hot wet dream of a Witcher to come stomping through the trees. The already pale skin of the Witcher was even paler with the poisons coursing through his body, black webbing littering his face as he moved over to the Leshen, deep fiery loose red hair catching every light off of the fire, and took hold of the monster’s horn, lifted its head, and brought his blade down to cleave cleanly through the creature’s neck. 

Jaskier blinked, staring at the Witcher, stuck somewhere between feeling ashamed at the sudden wave of arousal that hit him and utterly embarrassed, both feelings quickly vanishing as the Witcher’s nostrils flared and potion blackened eyes turned towards Jaskier. His eyes were wider by the barest of margins, strong jaw flexing and looking as if he was trying to find words, the black of his eyes catching the light from the fire, shinning like an owl’s in torchlight.

The Witcher stared at Jaskier, his head tilting to the side slowly as he looked the bard head to toe until finally, a small smirk appeared on the Witcher's lips. 

“A bit far from your grand halls, aren’t you?” The Witcher asks and Jaskier can’t help the involuntary shiver that works its way down his spine. 

“A bit far from your caves, aren’t you?” Jaskier snaps back, watching as the Witcher throws his head back and laughs.

“Touche,” he smirked after he was finished laughing, hauling the Leshen’s head apart from the rest of the body and pushing the large mass off to the side, “sorry for wrecking your camp.”

“Not to worry, dear Witcher, work such as yours comes with a minor downside,” Jaskier smiled at the Witcher, uncurling himself from his curled up position. 

“Aleksei,” the Witcher thrust his hand out at Jaskier, grinning as the bard took it without care of the blood covering it, “but you can call me Alek.” 

“Julian Alfred Pankratz,” Jaskier smirked as the Aleksei tried mouthing out the name, “but you can call me Jaskier.” 

“Jaskier?” Aleksei chuckled, his head tilting to the side, “the White Wolf’s bard?”

Jaskier nodded, smiling wide, Aleksei chuckled as he crossed his arms over his chest, giving the bard a once over again now that he was sitting relaxed. 

“You don’t seem scared,” Aleksei motioned at his face when Jaskier looked at him curiously. Jaskier laughed.

“Why would I be? You look just as handsome as Geralt does, well, maybe not as handsome. He’s got miles on you, sorry to say. 

Aleksei howled with laughter, head thrown back and hand pressed against his stomach, throwing his weight back on the balls of his feet. 

“Oh, you are a delight!” The Witcher announced loudly, grinning broadly. “I wonder why your Wolf hasn’t just locked you up yet,” Aleksei purred, leaning closer to Jaskier. The bard just smirked, staring at the Witcher’s face.

“He hasn’t expressed such desires for me,” Jaskier tilted his head to the side, smiling as his eyes trailed across Aleksei’s body, pausing at his waist, “unlike you.” 

Aleksei grinned, leaning closer to Jaskier, his eyes darting about the bard’s face as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. 

“What ever shall the little pixie do about it?” Aleksei purred and Jaskier grinned broadly. The bard reached up and gripped the Witcher’s shoulders, shoving him to the side and climbing on top of him, framing the Witcher’s hips with his thighs, staring down at him with a predatory smile. 

“Such a naughty Witcher,” Jaskier purred, gently kneading at Aleksei’s chest while rolling his hips, feeling the way that the Witcher’s prick filled out, sliding wonderfully across Jaskier’s clothed rear. Aleksei groaned, eyes slipping shut and head falling back, his large hands finding purchase on the bard’s hips, guiding the roll and pressing his hips up to get more friction. 

Jaskier grinned wide, showing off his teeth as he ran his tongue across his canines, a low deep groan leaving Aleksei as he watched. Jaskier’s pink tongue standing out in contrast to the deep purple that painted his lips, his nails scratching down the Witcher’s chest as Jaskier gave one final firm roll of his hips, moaning in exaggeration, loving the way the thick shaft had filled out the man’s trousers. 

Jaskier pressed the tip of his tongue to his top lip, mouth hanging open, a playful glint in his eye as he crawled down the Witcher’s body. Quickly unlacing Aleksei’s trousers and pulling the man free from the clothed prison, loving the pleasured groan that came from the Witcher.

“Good boy,” Jaskier purred, chuckling sweetly at the way Aleksei’s cock twitched in his grip. Jaskier settled himself comfortably between Aleksei’s legs, arms draped across the man’s hips, and swallowed him down whole.

Aleksei howled as warmth enveloped his cock, hitting the back of his head against the dirt, fingers finding their way into Jaskier’s hair and gripping tightly. A low pleased hum came from the bard, making Aleksei’s hips twitch, his lips curling around the meat in his mouth and Jaskier let out a breathy giggle as he knew the deep purple from his lips made a wonderful mark on the Witcher’s cock. 

Aleksei lifted his head to admire the view, watching as Jaskier started to move his head along the length of his cock, hissing with pleasure as the bard did something clever with his tongue that sent pleasure zinging through his body. 

Jaskier lost himself in bringing pleasure to the Witcher, continuing to move along the girth, curling his tongue, he even brought one of his hands between the Witcher’s legs and very gently teased at the tight ring of muscle with his fingertips, barely hearing the warning from Aleksei before the Witcher gripped his hair and pulled down as his hips thrust up, burring himself as deep as he could get into the bard’s mouth as he spilled his release down Jaskier’s throat. 

A happy hum left the bard as he pulled off of Aleksei’s cock, licking a long stripe over the meat and cleaning up any stray drops of release, admiring the purple ring smeared across the flesh, then tucked the Witcher back into his pants.

“Holy… fuck, and Geralt hasn’t had that yet!?” Aleksei swore loudly, chuckling when Jaskier crawled up his body and pressed a kiss to the Witcher’s hair. 

“Perhaps in due time,” Jaskier smirked, winking at Aleksei. 

“You little slut,” the Witcher growled, grinning. 

“Mmm, perhaps,” Jaskier chuckled, patting the Witcher’s leg, “now up with you, we need to fix that mess you call hair.” 

Aleksei gasped indignantly but listened to the bard anyways, rolling onto his knees and sitting dutifully between Jaskier’s legs as the bard directed him. They exchanged banter while Jaskier braids the Witcher’s hair, the bard admiring the tattoo of an owl on the back of his neck, pulling his hair back and weaving it all together, humming quietly as he traced his fingers across the undercut, the braid ending between his shoulder blades. 

The bard pulled out drinks from his bag, the two drinking the rest of the night away, laughing and leaning against each other as they shared every single embarrassing story they could think of.

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe 12 chapters? I think? Idk. That might change.


End file.
